BloodlustandMetal

by Lisa Carlisle

  And this time, I would not be distracted by her charms.

  Joey

  I didn’t like that guy talking to Angelica. The seconds I waited for her to come to the van ticked by, making me feel like an anxious parent—or a jealous boyfriend. I was the last one to get on the van while I waited for her to come into view. When she finally appeared, I exhaled in relief, unaware that I’d been holding my breath.

  Trying to keep my tone level, I asked Layla, “Who was that guy?”

  “Just some fan,” she answered in an off-hand manner.

  “I don’t like him.”

  She looked me straight in the eye and said, “You don’t know him.”

  “Something about him gave me the creeps.”

  “Oh come on,” Rocco, our drummer, said. “What is this—your female intuition?”

  “Funny, Rocco,” I said. “I’m a good judge of character. Always have been.”

  “So what do you call your tendency to think everyone has something to hide?” Mark chimed in. “Paranoia?”

  “No. Experience.”

  Angelica was looking out of the van window as if trying to stay out of the conversation. Having known her for almost a month now, I knew she was tougher than she looked, but there was still something very vulnerable about her. It made me want to look out for her no matter how often she protested she could take care of herself.

  “If he was just a fan,” I said, raising my voice to regain her attention, “why wouldn’t he ask for our autographs as well?”

  “Duh,” Rocco said. “He’s a guy. And Angelica is sexy as hell. You never have a girl asking for your autograph and not the rest of ours?”

  “Point taken,” I said. “But something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Rocco said. “What’s the chances we’d see that guy ever again?”

  “We’re playing here again tomorrow night,” I said. “If he’s here again, then we know he’s a stalker.”

  “Or a fan,” Rocco added. “Double duh.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds before turning back to her. “Angelica, listen to me a minute.”

  She slowly turned away from gazing out the window to face me. God knows what must go on in her head all the time, stuck with a bunch of guys on a tour van several nights at a time. Maybe one day I’d have to ask her about that. She was never forthcoming about herself. Most women I knew barely paused to take a breath when they knew they had someone to listen to them chatter on. Maybe she felt she was still new to the band and not yet comfortable with us. Maybe she thought she had big shoes to fill replacing Derek, our previous lead singer. Or maybe that was just her nature. The more she retreated into herself on our drives, the more compelled I was to draw something out of her. Was I driving her crazy?

  “I know you’re an independent woman who can take care of herself and all,” I began. “But you’re with us now and we take care of each other. We’re like a family. Watch out for guys like that. I’ve been touring for years and I’m telling you, when you catch a bad vibe about someone, stay away from them. It’s not worth it to stick around to see if you’re right or wrong. Just run.”

  “I didn’t get a bad vibe from him,” Angelica said. “In fact, I thought he was kind of cute.”

  Why did it feel like she jabbed me with a hot poker when she said that? I checked out women all night at the club. Of course she was going to check out guys. Nobody in the band was in a relationship so we were free to look. Or touch.

  Then she added, “Thanks for looking out for me, Joey. But you’re right. I can take care of myself. So don’t worry about me.”

  Layla

  What was with that guy, Devon? Both times I’d spoken to him tonight, he’d left me reeling with all kinds of contradictory emotions.

  And why did I kiss him on the cheek?

  I was lost in my thoughts on the drive away from the club. Luckily Rocco turned the conversation away from me to talk about how well the show went. I nodded and agreed at certain points, but was distracted as I thought about Devon.

  The way he looked at me each time had totally captivated me. As the singer of a rock band, I was getting used to shy kids who’d stare or ogling fans. But this guy didn’t seem like either. He played the part of a fan trying to get my autograph, but something about him didn’t settle right.

  Joey had noticed it too. But Joey looked at it in a paranoid older brother kind of way.

  What was it about Devon that didn’t fit? His confidence? Not cockiness, but he exuded some sort of self-awareness that didn’t match the approach of an adoring fan. Every sense in my body responded to him. Whatever it was about him was utterly alluring. His appearance, his voice, his scent. When I finally caught a scent of him, it was unlike any I had ever smelled before. A heady mixture of masculinity—and something else, something rather intoxicating I couldn’t quite place.

  Not to mention his accent. Nothing like a sexy English accent especially on a guy who looks like a bad boy. One of the things I missed about England—the accents. The phrase sexy motherfucker popped into my mind and made me smile.

  I closed my eyes and sank lower in my seat. Then I recreated an image of him in my mind because I didn’t want to forget what he looked like. Not that I thought I would. His presence was definitely memorable. Tall and muscular with a shaved head. Although he was British, he didn’t have the pale skin I’d expect, almost as pale as I was. He had a delicious olive complexion more indicative of Spain or Portugal. Maybe he was of mixed heritage. His arms barely showed the color of his natural skin, so covered in tattoos of tribal designs and animals.

  Forget what Joey said about him being a stalker. I was hoping he did return to the club tomorrow. And not necessarily to see the band.

  Devon

  I had the night planned out. This time I would not be disarmed by any of Layla’s charms. I knew how she operated and was prepared not to let her get the best of me.

  While at the club, I ordered a drink from the attractive pink-haired bartender and watched Layla play. Tonight she was going for a punk yet pretty style. She wore a tiny, white, lacy baby doll-style dress, the kind that Courtney Love wore back on the Live through This tour. I preferred other types of music over the metal stuff Layla and her band played, but alternative grunge was okay. I’d choose Nirvana over Metallica. I actually thought Layla looked even sexier tonight wearing the tiny, flowing dress rather than the skintight outfit from last night.

  Focus, Devon, focus. What she’s wearing doesn’t matter to you unless it factors into the equation of how it will affect you capturing her. Keep your mind in the game and not on your cock.

  Going for a more analytic approach, I continued to appraise Layla from a more objective mindset. She sported a pair of black scuffed-up combat boots. That was good to know in case she kicked out. It would hurt. A lot. But at the same time, it might be preferable to being kicked by the red stiletto heels she wore last night. While sexy, they could inflict serious damage if they made direct contact with a shin—or a groin.

  From a damage perspective, the stilettos would hurt worse, but the combat boots might be able to reach a broader area with the heavy heels. Or if they had steel toe-caps, ouch.

  Layla also wore a lot of silver jewelry. I guessed it was some other metal or even plastic. Silver had an incapacitating effect on vampires. It burned them and sapped their powers. Vampires and silver didn’t mix, which is why I had special ropes in my arsenal. A thin rope with silver chains embroidered throughout it. With it, I could bind my prey, rendering them almost powerless, without burning their flesh.

  A vision of having Layla tied up entered my mind. Instead of the satisfaction of having caught her, my response was far more erotic in nature.

  Luckily this wasn’t one of the clubs that had a metal detector at the front door. It was still underground enough and far enough away from the city to have the illusion of safety.

  I looked around for the exits, preparing for what
ever might ensue.

  As if reading my mind earlier about Nirvana, she sang About a Girl,one of their earlier songs from the Bleach album.

  While I watched Layla sing, I felt someone’s eyes on me. The guitarist. Watching me closely as if assessing me. I got the impression that he wasn’t happy about me being here. Why? Did he consider me a threat? If so, for what reason—her safety or her affections? I saw how they flirted onstage during that Van Halen song. If that was staged, they were both quite convincing.

  He wasn’t a supernatural creature, that much I determined. Nothing but a regular human. His interest in me then sparked other questions in my mind about their relationship. Were they sleeping together? The thought made my heart quicken.

  Why? What did I care who a vampire slept with anyway?

  I tried to dismiss his interest in me as protecting his buddy. Perhaps he was protective of her since they were in a band together, after all. A woman in a band with a bunch of guys. He had to know she’d be hit on regularly and he’d look out for her.

  Or perhaps he sensed that I was a danger to Layla.

  I didn’t see how an ordinary mortal could have the capacity to understand the motive or nature of a shapeshifter or vampire so I dismissed that thought rather quickly.

  Humans! They don’t even know we exist although we’ve lived among them for centuries.

  I kept it in mind to keep an eye out for the guitarist before I went for Layla. He could pose trouble.

  Bloodlust Diamond played a number of other songs—Guns n’ Roses, the Scorpions, Ratt, Bon Jovi. At the end of the set, Layla said good night and thanks for coming. She mentioned upcoming gigs in New York and Philadelphia in the next few weeks.

  Might not want to buy your tickets tonight, people. Especially if there’s no money back guarantee if the band doesn’t play.

  Depending on how Stefano would take care of Layla once I brought her to him, Bloodlust Diamond might have to look for a new singer again real soon.

  After Layla left the stage, I watched as the fans descended on her and the rest of the band. That was okay. Let them have their moment and then the crowd would thin out. The fewer people around, the better.

  Layla Costa, I’m coming for you.

  I walked straight up to her and said, “Hello, Angelica.”

  She appeared flustered at first, which pleased me. “Hi. Devon.” She twirled one of her black-and-white strands around her index finger. “You’re back. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “What can I say? I’m a fan.” I smiled in a way I hoped was more seductive than overzealous.

  “I guess so,” she said.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.

  She looked around. There were definitely other people who wanted to speak to her, but she said “Sure” in an almost breathless tone.

  I took her hand boldly as I led her to the bar. The warmth of her hand struck me and once again I was reminded how my presumptions of vampires being cold to the touch were unfounded.

  Or maybe it was just Layla. Oddly enough, I didn’t cringe at the thought of touching her, but craved it.

  “What would you like to drink?” I asked her.

  “Oh, how about a Tempting Fate,” she said.

  I smiled. Yes, she certainly was tempting fate tonight. Her fate was inextricably linked with mine from this moment on. Now that I had her hand in mine, I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight.

  After I ordered her drink and a beer for me, I saw the guitarist watching us. He walked over to us and said, “Hey, Layla. Everything all right?” He eyeballed me.

  “Yes, Joey.” Her voice took on a hardened edge. “Don’t worry about me. Everything’s fine.”

  He glared at me again as if sending me a warning. I stared right back. As if a human could intimidate me.

  Humans were funny. He wouldn’t have much of an impact on someone like me. The human male bravado, especially when it was exacerbated by alcohol, was a toxic mix.

  Still, I’d better keep a watch out for him. I couldn’t have some stupid human interfering with my plans now that I had her within my reach.

  Finally that bloody fool walked away.

  “How long have you been singing with the band?” I asked.

  She squinted before answering. “I thought you were a big fan. Do you already know the answer and are just making small talk? Or do you really not know?”

  How to play this? Stay in character or come clean?

  “You caught me,” I said, trying to appear embarrassed as if caught in a lie. “I don’t know much about the band or the music. I heard you singing last night and wanted a chance to talk to you. Asking for your autograph seemed like the best way to approach you.”

  “Why not just say hi?”

  “I don’t know. Good question.”

  She blinked a couple of times before speaking. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Something about you intrigued me. I wanted to get to know you better.”

  “In other words, you’re just trying to sleep with me.”

  “I didn’t say that, you did!” I protested. “What I said was I wanted to get to know you better.”

  She appeared unconvinced. “Now you have me here with you.” She took a sip. “So what do you want to know?”

  “It’s too loud in here. And it’s a beautiful night outside. Want to get outside for a minute?”

  She hesitated and I thought she was about to shoot me down, but then she said, “Just for a few minutes.” She looked around the club. “I’ll have to tell my bandmates. If they don’t see me here, they’ll worry.”

  “I don’t blame them. Lots of creeps out there.”

  “Sometimes I think it’s part of the whole ‘we have a girl in the band, we have to take care of her’ thing. I don’t think they worry so much about each other.”

  “It can’t be all that bad though, can it? Must be nice when someone cares about you.”

  She turned to me. “The way you say it makes it sound like nobody cares about you.”

  “Just a statement. Go ahead and tell one of the guys. I’ll wait for you out front.”

  She walked to the guitarist. Figures, it had to be him. While she spoke to him, I made my way to door. I could almost feel his eyes shooting daggers at my back. Out front, I counted slowly, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. Maybe the guitarist would change her mind. Or he’d come out here and tell me to stay away from her.

  When I reached the number one hundred forty-five, Layla came out.

  “You made it.”

  “It wasn’t easy. One of the guys gave me a hard time about leaving with a stranger.”

  “We won’t be long. Let’s walk around the block. It’s so much nicer out here than it is in there. A beautiful spring night.”

  She scanned the warehouses surrounding us as if unconvinced about the scenery, but then closed her eyes and breathed in the air. “Yeah, it’s nice out.”

  I reached for her hand again and was thrilled that she didn’t pull away. Her hand fit perfectly in mine. A small, warm thing that sent jolts of pleasure through me.

  It’s only adrenaline. That’s all.

  “Are you just visiting the US?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  “Just a little while. Taking care of some business.”

  “Oh,” she said and cocked her head. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work for myself.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I take care of my clients.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Take care of them how?”

  “Why? Are you in need of some help?”

  “No. Just curious. And find it odd that you haven’t answered me straight out.”

  “My clients pay me good money for my discretion.”

  “Hmm. Now I’m intrigued. Illegal off-shore accounts?” She looked me up and down. “You don’t look the type to want to deal with bank accounts all day. Drug deals?” />
  “I’m offended,” I said with a smile to let her know I wasn’t serious. “Do I look like a drug dealer to you?”

  “Sorry. You can’t blame me for being curious, can you?”

  “Let’s talk about you. How did you end up the singer of a metal band?”

  It was her turn to be evasive. “It just sort of—happened.”

  “Hold on one sec. This is my car. Let me grab something.” I looked around to make sure nobody was watching us, especially the guitarist. I wouldn’t put it past him to follow us. But I didn’t see or scent any sign of him. I opened the back door on the passenger side.

  The streets were empty. One good thing about the club being in the warehouse district was that most businesses were closed and the neighborhood was quiet by night. The only people out here at this time were the clubgoers.

  “What do you need to get?” she asked.

  I leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Her eyes fluttered close. This was supposed to be part of my ruse, a simple tactic to distract her, but when my lips met hers, I was the one who became distracted. Her lips were even softer than I imagined and tasted like sweet strawberries. Her scent was the one I’d picked up at Stefano’s place and now inhaling it in her presence, it had an even greater impact on me, a devastatingly disarming effect.

  Forcing myself to get back into the game, I took her hands and put them on my chest, guiding them as she stroked down my torso. God, it felt good to have her little hands touch me that way. But that wasn’t why I had her do it. With her hands in front of me right where I wanted them, I pulled out the rope and wrapped it around both wrists before she knew what was happening.

  She reacted as quickly as I expected any vampire to, but it was too late, the silver was already on her wrists, binding her.

  “What are you doing!”

  I pushed her into the backseat. I slammed the door shut just as she tried to rebound from being thrown down and tried to kick me.

  I shot around to the driver’s side and opened it to grab the duct tape I’d stashed underneath the front seat. She was trying to unbind herself from the rope, but the silver slowed her progress.